


The Punk, His Cat and His Prat (Policeman)

by InTheShadows



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Arthur Pendragon and Feelings, Breaking and Entering, Cop Arthur, Gangs, Gen, Gwen the cat, Humor, M/M, Merlin is a Little Shit, Protective Arthur, Protective Gwaine, Protective Mordred, punk merlin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-03
Updated: 2016-09-03
Packaged: 2018-08-12 17:30:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,198
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7943062
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/InTheShadows/pseuds/InTheShadows
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Merlin is the punk who keeps breaking into Arthur's flat to pet his cat, Arthur is the cop who is unsuccessful at stopping him, Gwen the cat encourages him and there is a surprising amount of feelings, no matter how much Arthur denied it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Punk, His Cat and His Prat (Policeman)

**Author's Note:**

> Wow, didn't this turn into something. Originally it was going to be a nice funny little drabble about punk!Merlin breaking into cop!Arthur's flat to pet his cat. Seriously. That's all. The first section of this was suppose to be the whole thing. But then things like PLOT and GANGS and RELATIONSHIPS happen and it got away from me. This story went from 750 words to 5k in a matter of a few hours. Yikes!

Arthur unlocks the door to his flat tiredly. It had been a long shift at work, made longer by the two dumbarses who decided it was a good idea to egg a house and then book it when the police arrived. Because running _always_ made it better. Right. Bloody idiots. That's all teenagers are. Bloody. Idiots.

Then he hears a noise coming from his living room and sighs. Great. Just what he needs to top off this day –  _another_ teenager. Walking to the doorway of the room just confirms his suspicions. He leans against the door frame to take in the sight, resigned to it by this point.

There, laying on the floor on his back is a skinny punk of a kid. The sides of his black hair is buzz cut, leaving the middle a messy mop of bright blue. Piercings litter his face, including his eyebrow, his nose and no less then five in his right ear. His jeans are ripped in an absurd amount of places. His white vest clings to him so tightly you are able to count his ribs and vertebrae because he is that thin. Either he has on of those ridiculously fast metabolisms or he doesn't have enough to eat. Not that Arthur cares of course. His leather jacket and boots with an unnecessary amount of buckles are on the floor by the sofa.

And, the reason for this lovely  _visit_ in the first place. Queen Guinevere is laying on the boys stomach, purring loudly. He is cooing softly to her and she is soaking it up, the spoiled thing that she is. Arthur was right on spot when he named his cat after a queen. She certainly acts entitled enough.

“Ahem,” Arthur clears his throat pointedly.

The boy – Merlin – turns his head and gives Arthur a bright grin. “That time already?”

“You know, despite what you think, you are still not welcome here. This is still considered breaking and entering.”

“Aw, you know you don't mind. After all, you stopped arresting me after the seventh time. And it's not like I do any harm.”

“That is besides the point Merlin. You are breaking into a policeman's flat. Routinely. Most people would be smart enough not to do it after the first time. Or, here's a thought, _not do it at all._ ”

“But then who would give this lovely Lady the love and attention she deserves.”

Gwen, traitor that she is, chooses that moment to stretch out even farther, giving Merlin access to her stomach. Merlin obeys the clear command and starts rubbing it, cooing some more about 'beautiful lady' and 'how you know better than your prat of an owner, don't you, that's right smart girl'.

Arthur rubs the bridge of his nose. “Right, enough. I'm home now, so out!” He really should arrest the punk again, but there was a reason he stopped after the seventh time. It didn't stop him. Nor did changing the lock on the door, keeping the windows firmly shut and asking his neighbors to chase him away if the saw him. He just kept coming. And all to pet his bloody cat.

At first he thought it was a joke. Yes, let's break into the policeman's flat to do something ridiculous. Ironic, ha, ha. Now Arthur honestly thinks the bloody idiot has become attached to his cat. Gwen has certainly imprinted on him. He repeats – teenagers are bloody idiots.

Merlin gives Gwen one last stroke before mournfully, but gently, removing her from his stomach and standing up. He puts on his boots and jacket and gives Arthur a cheeky two finger salute. “Same time tomorrow?” he asks, grinning his stupidly bright grin.

“No,” Arthur says firmly, “I won't see you this time tomorrow because you are not going to break into my flat again. Understand?”

“Do you say that just to hear yourself talk?”

“OUT!”

Merlin just grins and walks out the door, whistling as he goes.

Arthur closes it firmly behind him and locks it for good measure before collapsing down onto the sofa. “Why do I get stuck with the cheeky punk?” he asks himself. Gwen jumps up on him and butts his hand with a paw. He reaches up and scratches her ear. “And you're no help either,” he declares, “He would hardly keep coming back if you weren't so damn spoiled and soaked up all his attention.”

Gwen gives a loud 'reow' and lays down.

–xxXXXxx–

 

Two months later, Merlin 'breaks into' Arthur's flat as per usual – how he hasn't figured it out yet Merlin will never know – and finds an envelope addressed to him on the kitchen counter. He opens it up and reads the note inside:

_Punk,_

_I'm on vacation. I was going to get someone to watch Gwen when I thought 'Oh wait, I already have someone'. She gets fed one scoop of her food twice a day. It's in the lower cupboard. Give her fresh water and clean out the litter box as needed. I'm sure you don't need specific instructions on how to do that. Hopefully. I'll be back in a week, try not to destroy the place. You do and you'll be back in the center so fast it'll make your head spin._

_Arthur_

_ps. Don't think this means I approve, but since you are going to come in regardless, I thought you might like to finally enter the legal way._

A key is at the bottom of the envelope. Merlin grins. “I knew he would warm up to the idea eventually,” he tells Gwen. She curls around his legs in a clearly approving manner. “Good girl.”

 

–xxXXXxx–

 

When Arthur walks through his door, it is to the familiar sight he has long resigned himself to after all these months. “Punk,” he greets.

“Dollop head,” Merlin greets back, Gwen comfortably on his lap.

Arthur can't even bring himself to feel exasperated anymore. Not that he has accepted Merlin – oh no he refuses to admit defeat – but it was like fighting an unmovable force – not worth the energy to try. That's when he notices that Merlin is holding his one shoulder rather stiffly. And he has an actual shirt on instead of his usual tight fitting vest. It's not concern Arthur feels. Of course not. Why would he? It's simply curiosity, that's all. Just curiosity.

Merlin sees him looking and grins. “New tattoo. Want to see?” He doesn't wait for an answer before he carefully lifts his shirt up and slips it partway off to show off his shoulder.

Arthur does have to admit it is a stunning piece of artwork. His shoulder is covered by a realistic looking dragon. It extends both ways, tail curling around the boy's arm just below his elbow and its head resting under his collar bone. Clutched in the dragon's claw is a simple but elegant looking sword with a crown hanging on the blade.

“Are you even old enough to get a tattoo?” Arthur asks, instead of the compliment circling through his head.

Merlin looks offended. “Yes I am. I've been eighteen for a week now. Just because I look younger than I am, doesn't mean you have to rub it in. And you're one to talk. You aren't that much older than me. You're what? Three years older?”

“Five,” Arthur automatically corrects.

“Five then. That's not that big of a difference. You don't have to be such a prat all the time.”

Arthur sighs. “You know you are the only one who calls me that?”

“Someone has to remind you.”

“Humph... nice tattoo,” is all he admits. He moves closer to get a better look when he sees it. There, on one of Merlin's bony hips is a familiar triple spiral. He feels sick. “You're a Druid?” he demands.

The Druids are one of three local gangs in this part of London. They use to be the less troublesome of the gangs, the Knights and especially the Royals causing much more trouble. Sometimes Arthur doubted 'gang' was the right way to describe them. There was some trouble, sure, but no violence and no damage. But lately they seem to be fighting with the Royals. It is getting to the point of fatalities. To think that Merlin is involved in that...

Alright, so maybe he cares about the punk. But only a little bit. He hardly wants to see him killed. Who would watch Gwen then?

Merlin scowls at him. “I know what you are thinking and it isn't it. First off, I'm only an honorary member. They made me one because I help them when I can. My Uncle runs a holistic medicine shop and I help him run it, so I've picked some things up. They know I'll treat them if I can. I saved one of their youngest members when he was betrayed by an ex-member. That's what all of the fighting is about right now.

“One of the members, Morgana,” Merlin doesn't notice when Arthur's breath catches at the name, “broke away from the Druids to join the Royals. That caused a rift in the gang. A true Druid is fairly peaceful, they don't like to fight much. But the group split. Now there is another gang – the Sorcerers. They have no problems with fighting, as I'm sure you know from your job. Morgana tried to bring Mordred with her, but that didn't go well. I managed to get him stable enough to get him to the A&E. Ever since they consider me on of them, even if it isn't official,” he shrugs, “Shouldn't you know about some of this already?”

Arthur shakes his head. “No, we didn't know about the split, but that explains things. I'll pass it on to the others at work... ta.”

“No problem. I hardly wanted you to think I was a _Sorcerer_ ,” he spits out the name.

“No, just a Druid.”

“Warlock actually.”

“Wait,” he blinks, “ _you're_ the Warlock?”

“I have a reputation?”

“You could say that. You realize the Royals are out for your blood, yes?”

The boy – no, not boy, not really – sighs. “I'm aware, trust me. Everyone has been super protective since we found out, especially Mordred. Your flat is basically the only place they leave me alone anymore. I always have a shadow somewhere around me.”

Arthur nods. “Good. I may not have known about the recent politics, but I have heard some nasty stories about what they want to do to you when they capture you,” he pauses, “If you want, I'll send out a notice to keep an eye out for trouble as well. Police should make them think twice before trying anything.”

“Ah, you really do care,” Merlin flutters his eyes at him, “I knew you did.”

“Don't be ridiculous, I'm only doing it because of Gwen.”

“Naturally,” and then, softer, “yes please.”

Arthur nods. “Done.”

Neither say anything for a moment before Arthur asks, “You know Morgana?”

“Not personally, but I thought I did well enough, but then she went over to the dark side. It was a huge betrayal to the gang. Druids are family, but we seem to be tearing apart now. Why?”

“She's my half-sister,” Arthur says in a low tone.

Merlin winces. “I'm sorry,” is all he offers.

“So am I,” Arthur answers.

They don't talk anymore after that.

 

–xxXXXxx–

 

When Arthur goes into his living room, still half asleep, coffee in hand and wearing only his sleeping trousers, the last thing he expects is to find a puppy pile on the floor. Not actual puppies of course, but it is a remarkably similar effect. The three of them are tangled together, all dark hair and pale limbs. If he didn't know any better, he would say all three are related, but Merlin is an only child. Biologically speaking, anyways.

None the less, this is not what Arthur meant when he offered Merlin protection. But then the mysterious boy shifts in his sleep and the other two shift automatically, giving Arthur a good view of the cuts and bruises that they have. Oh. Well, that would explain a few things.

He walks out of the room, intending to let them sleep as long as they need. No he isn't going soft. But he's a policeman, which means he does actually care for people, even if he doesn't show it very well. He sets the first aide kit on the couch where they are sure to see it, makes sure the blanket is still on them and sets out to make himself breakfast.

The smell of food must wake them up because soon after they come stumbling in the kitchen, about as awake as he feels. Merlin has the kit in hand and starts cleaning the girl's face when she sits down. Arthur puts more eggs on.

“You know _Mer_ lin,” he drawls, “this wasn't exactly what I meant when I gave you that key.”

The other two look at him – the girl nervously and the boy glaring – but Merlin ignores him.

“What happen?” he asks.

“Royals,” the boy spits.

“Are you alright?” Arthur asks them all then, much more concerned then before.

“Yes. The Knights showed up before they could do too much damage. But it wasn't possible to go home after that, so I brought them here for the night. No one is hardly going to mess with us here.”

“Right, it's only cheeky punks who break into my flat, not gangs.”

Merlin laughs. “I told you, I'm just here for your cat.” He is now looking over the boy. “Arthur, this is Freya and Mordred, two Druids. Guys, this is Arthur, the policeman I was telling you about. He may act like a prat, but he isn't bad, so stop glaring Mordred. He's not like those other ones.”

Arthur now understands much better why Mordred is glaring. Some police can be real pricks at times, especially to gang members, peaceful or otherwise. He places the eggs on a plate, along with toast and jams. “Help yourself,” he motions to the food and the other plates he set out. “It's nothing serious, is it?”

“No, we're fine.”

“Merlin's ribs might be cracked,” Mordred corrects him, “but Freya and I are relatively fine.”

Arthur sighs. “You idiot, come here,” he motions.

“What? No, I'm fine. Really.”

“Let me be the judge of that. You aren't the only one who knows first aide around here. I can reliably check for both broken ribs and concussions.”

“Speaking from experience, are we?” Merlin teases, “Head injuries, that would explain quite a bit really.”

“Just come here punk.”

Merlin grins and carefully walks over to where Arthur is standing. He pulls Merlin's shirt up and winces in sympathy at the bruises littering his torso. “Fine, right, of course you are,” he mutters, mostly to himself as he carefully runs hands along the exposed skin, pressing down lightly in a few places. Merlin gasps softly, but stays silent. “Bruised, no breaks or cracks,” he then declares, “Have you taken something for the pain yet?”

“I'm fi-”

“No,” Mordred cuts him off.

“Take something and eat,” he orders, “All three of you look like you need it.”

Mordred snorts.

Arthur looks at him questioningly.

“Merlin was right, you are a mother hen.”

Freya, who had been quiet up until the, lets out a snort of laughter. She covers her mouth, clearly embarrassed, but Merlin has no problem laughing outright.

“Right, despite what you might think, this isn't a bed and breakfast, so eat and get out,” he orders.

“But the view is so nice,” Freya says, oh so innocently.

It isn't until he catches the mischievous glint in her eyes that he realizes what she is talking about. He is still shirtless. “Eat!”

 

–xxXXXxx–

 

A few weeks later, Arthur arrives at his flat once again to find a stranger in his living room, petting his cat. He sighs. “Did Merlin send you?” he asks yet another dark hair teen. What was it with the punk and having people who could be his siblings around?

The teen shakes his head. “No, but he's why I'm here. You _are_ Merlin's policeman yeah?”

“I know him, but I hardly belong to him. How did you get in if he didn't send you?”

“I hate to tell you this mate,” he flashes Arthur a cocky grin, “but your lock is way too easy to pick. And yeah, your _Merlin's_ policeman. Glad someone with some actual authority is looking out for him, even if you lot are usually pretty useless.”

“Thanks,” Arthur replies drily, “now I assume you didn't just come here to insult me. You have news about Merlin? Is he alright? You _are_ a Druid?”

“Knight, but I have a soft spot for him. He needs a fighter to look out for him, what with Morgana after him and all. If the Druids hadn't got to him first, I would have made him a Knight.”

“ _Merlin_ , a _Knight_ ,” Arthur's disbelief couldn't be anymore clear.

He nods. “He may not look like it, but Merlin's a fighter. A few of us Knights have been giving him lessons. Kid's got skill when he isn't tripping over his own two feet,” he sighs, “Just not enough to take on the world,” he turns serious, “Merlin is stable now, but he was shot twice this afternoon.”

“What?! Why didn't you start with that?”

“Because he's fine now. He probably isn't even awake yet from the surgery. Plus Lance is keeping an eye on him. But some Royals cornered him and things escalated quickly. By time help arrived, he had been shot in the shoulder and the stomach. Percy was able to chase them off before they could do anymore damage,” he smirks, “You don't mess with Percy. Should be easy to find them too. He was a bit rough when he chased them off.”

Arthur rubs his forehead. “Fuck.”

“That about sums it up mate. But he's going to be fine now. Merlin's tough, he'll recover, even if it takes months.”

Arthur nods. “Right. Where is he, I'm going to see him.”

“I thought you might say that. Follow me Princess.”

Arthur obeys, deciding to argue about the nickname later. For now he's too busy worrying about Merlin. Only a little bit, because the punk is going to be _fine._

 

–xxXXXxx–

 

Merlin looks fragile and pale, laying in the hospital bed. It makes something inside Arthur twist unpleasantly. He shouldn't be this _still_. Merlin is always fidgeting with something, however small. To see him so white and motionless is wrong.

He is by himself right now. He finally convinced the two young Druids to go home and get some sleep. He kicked the two Knights out to do the same. It was a sight to see, how these two gangs fiercely guarded this young man. For the past five days, while Merlin has drifted in and out of consciousness, Arthur has met more Knights and Druids than he ever thought he would.

The original four – Freya, Mordred, Lance and Gwaine – were the most constant of the guards. But he also met Percy and understood just what Gwaine meant. He met the rest of Gwaine's family – the twins Gareth and Gaheris and another brother Agravain, as well as learning Mordred was the youngest of the bunch. Two others, Kay and Tristan, came in and out. And then you had the number of Druids, up to and including Finna, Taliesin and, their leader, Iseldir, as well as the ones whose names Arthur forgot.

It was humbling to see how many lives Merlin touched without even trying. He truly had a knack for it. It must be the ears.

Then he met Merlin' Mother and Uncle. He was bewildered just how much she had thanked him for looking after him.

“I know he can be a handful sometimes,” she had said, “but he's a good boy at heart. It's so kind of you to be so patient with him. I've been so worried about him, what with him hanging out with these gang members the past few years after his best mate died. You've been making such a difference in his life. Thank you.”

Arthur... still isn't sure what to do with all of that.

The uncle was a bit more pragmatic, but he still was under the impression that Arthur was a good influence on him. “I haven't seen Merlin smile so much since he started talking to you.” Do none of these people know that he arrested the teen for breaking and entering _several times_ because he wanted to _pet Arthur's cat_? Maddening.

“Ar'ur,” Merlin mumbles.

Arthur turns to see him looking much more alert then he has in days, even if he is still groggy. “Finally decided to wake up I see,” he says as he holds a cup of water and a straw in front of Merlin's face. “Here.”

“Ta,” Merlin says after he takes a long swallow, “Wha' happen?”

“Don't you remember?”

“'Member... Royals, gun... shot?” it comes out as more of a question than a statement.

“Yes, some of Royals cornered and shot you before the Knights arrived. I must say, you have quite the fan club. You have members of two different gangs guarding you. Interesting characters.”

Merlin snorts. “You met Gwaine?” he asks, sounding much more awake the longer he talks.

“Oh yes, I met Gwaine and _all_ of his brothers, then you have Lance, Percy and a few other Knights along with a handful of Druids including _their leader_ ,” Arthur emphasizes. “I also had the pleasure of meeting your Mother and your Uncle. Both of whom, I might add, seem to be under the impression I am somehow good for you,” he raises an eyebrow in question.

Merlin shrugs and blushes. “Mum's just glad I have someone watching out for me that isn't in a gang.”

“Oh yes, because apparently you have been smiling more as well.”

Merlin's blush deepens. “Don't let it go to your head.”

“Why would I? It's probably because of my cat, not me.”

The teen grins. “Naturally.”

Arthur snorts. “I'm surprised, considering how many times I arrested you.”

“I've had worse. At least it was just for breaking and entering.”

“Worse?”

“I... might have gone through a rough patch some years back.”

“When your best mate died?” Arthur guesses.

Merlin jerks violently. “How did you know about that?” he demands.

“Easy, you don't want to agitate your wounds-”

“-Fuck my wounds-”

“-and your Mother mentioned it.”

“Oh,” he says softly. There is a long pause before Merlin adds, still quiet, “It was a hit and run. We never found out who did it. Everything happened so fast, there was nothing I could do. One second Will was walking beside me, both of us laughing at some lame joke. The next, he was gone... we were fifteen,” his voice breaking at the end.

Oh god. Fifteen and seeing your best mate killed in front of you. No wonder Merlin's family had been so worried about him. This was one of the reasons he became a policeman and not the CEO his Father wanted. He wanted to help people like Merlin and Will stay safe. He doesn't say anything, just rests his hand on Merlin's shoulder in silent comfort.

“I was always a bit... reckless, but I became a trouble child after that. I didn't care anymore. What was the point? Will was my only friend back then. Things didn't really get better until I saved Mordred. I was only in that part of town to begin with because I had been looking for a fight. The Druids... helped... a lot. They basically adopted me, as you saw.

“Mordred began to follow me around and brought Freya with him. And Gwaine started too because he was grateful I had saved his little brother and he wanted to repay me. Lance heard about me from Gwaine and came to introduce himself, along with the rest of the Knights. They helped me blow off steam when I needed it. And the others were always there for silent support. I know Mum worries that I am involved with them, but they probably saved my life.”

Well, this is definitely a side of the gangs one doesn't generally hear about too often. He knew that they were protective, but to hear Merlin talk about it... Arthur has never been so grateful that those two gangs exist in his life, no matter the trouble they cause.

“And breaking into my flat?” Because the question must be asked.

“Ah... that. It started off as an accident actually. I took one of Aunt Alice's keys when she was still your neighbor to have an extra copy made – one of the Knights, Elyan is a locksmith. But that was when you were on vacation and had her watching Gwen. I grabbed yours instead without realizing it. And since I had it... was a joke, really. But then... I really liked your cat.”

Arthur snorts. “That explains a few things. Aunt Alice?”

“Uncle Gaius is dating her. They finally moved in together, but since everyone was use to seeing me, no one really thought to keep me out like you asked. And after, when you changed your locks, I just picked it then had a new key made.”

“Even after I arrested you all of those times?”

“I _really_ like your cat.”

Arthur sighs. “I'm never getting rid of you, am I?”

“Nope,” Merlin grins brightly. “Not unless you want to give me your cat.”

“Hardly,” Arthur replies drily, “This might surprise you, but you aren't the only one who likes my cat. I actually am attached as well.”

Merlin gasps. “Oh my, Arthur Pendragon, admitting he likes another living breathing thing. Alert the news.”

“Watch it punk. Don't think I can't still arrest you when you come next time.”

“Right,” he snorts, “I'm sure that will go over well considering you officially gave me a key months ago.”

“Who's the policeman here and who's the punk?”

“At least I'm not a prat, unlike some people.”

Iseldir comes in not long after and Arthur takes his leave.

 

–xxXXXxx–

 

“Do you know which Royals cornered you?” Arthur finally asks the next day.

“Yeah – Cenred, Helios, Morgause and Lot. Cenred was the one who shot me,” Merlin answers after a slight pause.

“I'll pass the information along to the others on the case. Although they are going to want to talk to you now that you are able to actually stay awake.”

Merlin nods. “Alright. Who's on it?”

“Leon and Ewan.”

Merlin grins. “Wicked, Leon is awesome.”

Arthur raises an eyebrow. “I didn't realize you had favorites.”

“After how many times you arrested me? Of course I do.”

“And Leon is one of them?”

“Yes. What's the matter? Jealous?”

“No. Why in the world would I be jealous _Mer_ lin?”

Merlin grins, obviously seeing right through him. “Come here,” he commands, making a grabbing motion with his hand.

“Why?”

“I want to see something. Please?” he gives Arthur some of the most pathetic puppy dog eyes he has ever seen.

Arthur sighs and obeys. Damn him.

Merlin latches onto his wrist and pulls on it until Arthur is sitting on the bed. “Alright. Now what did you want to see?”

“This,” Merlin says as he leans in and gives Arthur a quick kiss on the lips. He pulls away to check his reaction. He reaches up and fiddles with an earring nervously.

Arthur blinks and then rolls his eyes. “Timing Merlin,” he tells him.

“Seemed like a good time. I can blame it on the drugs if you want?” he offers, looking away.

Arthur sighs because Merlin will not see him if he rolls his eyes again. “Come here punk,” he pulls Merlin gently against him.

Merlin lays his head on Arthur's shoulder. “Alright?”

“Alright,” he kisses Merlin's head.

Merlin lets out a yawn.

“Time to sleep now.”

“'M not tired,” he protests with another yawn.

“Of course you aren't. Whatever would make me think that?”

“Clot pole.”

He helps Merlin shift into a more comfortable position as he goes back to the chair. “You need the sleep. I'll be here after my next shift ends.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

Arthur watches his eyes close and the tension in his body leave. He still has some time before he has to leave, so he doesn't get up yet. One of Merlin's many bodyguards will be here soon. He'll leave then. “We'll get them,” he promises quietly, waiting until Merlin is asleep to say it. “They won't get away. Not like the other one did.”

“Good,” Merlin mummers, still awake to hear him and reply, but clearly not for much longer.

“Go to sleep you idiot.”

“Al'ight,” he agrees, his breathing soon evening out.

 

–xxXXXxx–

 

Merlin is in the hospital for another two weeks before he is released. He is finally able to stay awake for longer periods of time, although his pain medicine still makes him drowsy. But with his release, another problem arises. Merlin still needs help getting around, with his stomach wound still needing to heal. This wouldn't be a problem if Hunith didn't work two jobs support them or if Gaius or Alice were strong enough to support Merlin's weight.

Before anyone else can come up with a solution, Arthur's mouth has the brilliant idea of speaking without thought and volunteering his flat. He wants to regret it immediately – he would ask himself what he was thinking, but obviously he wasn't – but they look so grateful when he says it.

Merlin's grin almost swallows his face. “I knew you cared.”

“Don't be ridiculous _Mer_ lin. Obviously I'm only doing it for Gwen. She has been pinning for you the last few weeks. Leave it to you to get my cat so attached to you.”

“She's my cat too.”

They continue to bicker on the way to his flat, as they arrive at his flat, when they settle into his flat. Frankly all they really do is bicker. Or flirt outrageously, if one is to believe anything that comes out of Gwaine's mouth.

Which is another thing. His flat is now regularly invaded by various gang members. Not the best thing for a policeman's flat. But there is no kicking them out – especially not the four practically siblings – and Merlin is always happy to see them. No he is _not_ getting soft. Not at all... Alright, so that might be a slight lie. But he doesn't have to admit to anyone but himself.

Although no one is as happy to see Merlin as Gwen is. His cat has glued herself to Merlin's side and will not leave him alone. It's almost adorable, not that Arthur would ever use that word of course. He hasn't gone _that_ soft after all.

Nope, not one bit, he thinks as he watches his boyfriend and his cat curled up on his couch together, Gwen snuggled in between Merlin's body and arm. She shifts in her sleep slightly and Merlin shifts in response as well. Definitely not a word he would use. Not at all.

 

 

 

 


End file.
